


Come Marching Home

by Starthewolf1106



Series: Leaves From The Vine [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Ahsoka Tano's death, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s05e20 The Wrong Jedi, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt Anakin Skywalker, Hurt No Comfort, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sad, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27782926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starthewolf1106/pseuds/Starthewolf1106
Summary: Here's my season 5 episode 20 The Wrong Jedi AU, inspired by asparagus_writes's fic, Sun's Sudden Embrace. The song I'm using is 'Leaves From The Vine' from Avatar: The Last Airbender, more specifically Nathan Nix's cover of the song. Enjoy, and try not to cry too much.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Series: Leaves From The Vine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091723
Comments: 34
Kudos: 110





	1. Pride and Sorrow (I Loved You, Little One)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sun's Sudden Embrace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035265) by [asparagus_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asparagus_writes/pseuds/asparagus_writes). 



> THERE'S SOMETHING ON YOUR FACE!  
> *punches you with this fic*  
> IT WAS PAIN

_ Leaves from the vine, falling so slow _

_ Like fragile tiny shells, drifting in the foam _

_ Little soldier boy, come marching home _

_ Brave soldier boy, come marching home _

* * *

Anakin stayed with her until the moment she died, and a little after that. He refused to let her die alone, even if he wasn’t allowed to be there. Instead, he whispered to her quietly through their bond, wrapping her in his presence and trying desperately to hide his fear, anger, hate, and everything else from her. He didn’t hide his love for her, though, nor did he hide his pride and his sorrow. 

He felt her love for him, too, and he felt that she didn’t blame him for what was about to happen. He also felt her terror, her betrayal, her youthful hope that somehow, something would happen and she would be saved, but also her dark resignation that she was about to die. He felt that, and he tried to comfort her. She was so young. Too young. 

A fresh wave of hatred towards the Jedi for allowing this to happen filled him, but he refused to let it show. He wouldn’t feel anything but love and pride in his apprentice until it was over.  _ Then _ , he told himself,  _ then  _ he could sob and rip his hair out and punch a wall and whatever else. Only then would he grieve.

_ Master? I’m scared, _ Ahsoka whispered to him through their bond. Anakin mentally embraced her in the tightest hug he could. He could hear them preparing her execution from her end as clearly as though they were right next to him.

_ I know, and that’s okay. Ahsoka, I love you. I love you so, so, so much and I’m so, so, so sorry, _ Anakin thought back.

_ Do you think… When all of this is over… We could play that video game we’ve been wanting to play for a while? _ Ahsoka asked. Anakin swallowed back his tears as he heard the counting begin. 

_ Of course. We could be friends, and you can come to visit me.  _

Ahsoka’s presence snuggled closer into his until they were nearly fully entwined. Anakin knew that, when she died, he would feel it as if it were his own, as well as more pain than he knew he could handle. But he didn’t care. If he could give Ahsoka this one last comfort, then he would die a thousand times just so that she wouldn’t die feeling alone and abandoned.

_ We’ll go on those adventures we always wanted to do, _ Anakin whispered to her, not even trying to stop the tears.  _ And we’ll go fishing and exploring and anything else you want to do and everything will be alright. Doesn’t that sound nice? _

_ Yeah, _ Ahsoka whispered back.  _ That sounds nice. _

Anakin could hear them preparing to shoot. He had a few seconds left, at most. Time had run out.

_ Ahsoka, listen to me, not them. I love- _

He was cut off by the sound of blaster fire as his world exploded in pain. It was over.

He was on the ground, screaming, blinding pain encompassing him. But, while the physical pain was agonizing, it was the clawing, endless vortex of grief in his chest that was killing him. 

The clones the Jedi had placed outside his door to make sure he didn’t interfere rushed in, though he barely heard them. 

Ahsoka was dead. It was his fault. He couldn’t save her, he couldn’t protect her. He loved her, she was his Padawan, his little sister, his best friend, and she was gone, and it was all his fault.

There was no room for denial in his grief-torn mind. Ahsoka was dead, and he had failed. Again. He would have given his life for hers a thousand times just to see her smile and now she would never smile again because she was dead and he wasn’t and that hurt so much more than the splitting pain in his skull. 

Obi-Wan was there, he realized, and the Jedi Anakin had thought of as a brother, as a mentor, as a _friend_ was asking him how he could be so stupid, why he would do something so foolish as to not cut the bond off before Ahsoka was killed. 

The world seemed to stop. 

_How_. 

_Dare_. 

_He_.

The pain was still there, but it seemed less intense. Instead, it was slowly replaced by a well of hatred so intense it was all he knew. How  _ dare  _ he? He, and the rest of the Jedi, who sacrificed one of their own, one of their own  _ children  _ to try and save face? Who thrust a 14-year-old and a 19-year-old into a warzone and left them to die? The Jedi, who had never been there for him or for Ahsoka, who was cold and lifeless now because of them? How  _ dare  _ he, how dare  _ they  _ preach to him about foolishness?

Anakin felt the righteous fury encompass him, felt it heat his skin and thrum through his veins. It made him feel alive. He looked at Obi-Wan and realized that this was when the Jedi expected retaliation. If he truly wanted to avenge Ahsoka’s needless death then he would have to wait. And wait he would.

They would pay for this.

But not now.

The anger cooled into something much more dangerous. It was still there, still festering, still waiting to be called upon. But now it was cold and still, instead of the raging inferno it was before. How  _ dare  _ they?

The Jedi. He hated them more than he ever hated anything, barring himself. Their day of reckoning would come.

Not yet, but soon. 

This story wasn’t about revenge, he knew. This story was about how the Jedi, corrupt and stagnant in their ways, had allowed an outside force to bully them into letting a child of their own creed be killed. All the evidence presented was circumstantial at best, and yet they had called for her death simply to try and save face. This story was about a brother, a mentor, a friend, who lost his other half to this corruption. This was about the anger, the hurt, the guilt; this was about the sadness, the grief, the aching loneliness and longing, the hole that was torn in his heart that would never heal. This was about a child, a sister, a friend, who was murdered in cold blood by those in power. This was about the fear, the hopelessness, the betrayal; this was about the innocence that was so cruelly snatched away by those she looked up to and wanted to be like. 

This was about an Order, so much bigger than the both of them, that used and abused them for years, who took what they wanted and when the price for what they wanted became too high, they slaughtered them. Like weapons, they were utilized for one purpose and when they no longer served that purpose they were destroyed. Ahsoka, who lay cold in an unmarked grave, and Anakin, who would never be whole again. Two children, taken from their homes, used as weapons and thrown away. Two children, dead, at the hands of an Order who preached justice and peace.

This story was about those two children.

* * *

_ These leaves did fall from branches overgrown _

_ Drifting slowly down, resting all alone _

_ The little soldier boy, taken from his home _

_ He was forced to fight a war that was not his own _


	2. When Everything Was Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin stared down at the young Togruta. He knew how this story ended, too.
> 
> She was young, too young to be fighting this war. Kriff, he was too young to be fighting this war. He couldn’t even legally drink, and he was already a General with his own battalion of men, an experienced war veteran, and an amputee. How old was she, even? 14? No, she was much too young.
> 
> And she was his new Padawan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the first part. A second part is planned, but I have no idea when (or if) that will happen. Hope you enjoyed!

_Leaves from the vine, falling so slow_

_Like fragile tiny shells, drifting in the foam_

_Little soldier boy, come marching home_

_Brave soldier boy, come marching home_

* * *

_Not all stories had happy endings. He refused to let this be one of them._

_There was still time, he could still save her. He could save Shmi, his mother. He just needed to get there-_

_Blood and sand and he was too late, too late to do anything, useless, useless, useless!_

_There was still time, he could still save her. He could save Ahsoka, his sister. He just needed to find the evidence and-_

_The scent of charred flesh and the pain as she fell to the ground and he was too late again, why couldn’t he do anything right?_

_She was as bright as the stars themselves. Where his mother had been like water, soothing and cool and the very essence of life itself, Ahsoka was fire. She was warmth and light and if you got too close you’d get burned but that was alright because Anakin knew how to get close without getting burned and the love he got in return was worth the risk anyway. Except, the water had dried up, and the fires went out. He was left a dying man, without water or warmth. He was freezing and he was thirsty, he would do anything for the smallest drop, the tiniest flame. But the world was made of stone that didn’t spark when struck and ice that never melted. Where there had once been forests and streams, meadows and lakes, open fields of grass painted with flowers and an azure ocean that gently hissed in content, there was now nothing but a freezing plateau devoid of life._

_The scent of blood and blaster fire always lingered. The sound of a woman’s dying breath and a military officer counting down echoed in his ears. The feeling of blood seeping through his fingers and sand cutting into his skin bolstered the empty feeling in the Force where Ahsoka had once been._

_He was back on Tatooine, in that tent. He knew how this story ended, he knew what happened next._

_That didn’t stop him from trying to change it._

_He pressed his hands to her body and pleaded with the Force to heal her, to take his life and exchange it for hers. The Force, for once, was silent. Nothing answered his call. His mother went limp and he felt his world shatter._

_The scenery changed._

_Anakin stared down at the young Togruta. He knew how this story ended, too._

_She was young, too young to be fighting this war. Kriff, he was too young to be fighting this war. He couldn’t even legally drink, and he was already a General with his own battalion of men, an experienced war veteran, and an amputee. How old was she, even? 14? No, she was much too young._

_And she was his new Padawan._

_Force, that was terrifying. How was he supposed to protect and teach a child during an active war? How was he supposed to take care of her when he could barely take care of himself?_

_He wouldn't let himself think about the last person he had let down, how he had failed, how she had-_

_Her name was Ahsoka, and she meant everything to him. She stitched together the shards of the universe he thought forever broken. The edges were still sharp, but they were together, and she had tried her best._

_But she was dead, and the universe was far beyond repair, and he must be dreaming. Tears fell from his eyes as he embraced her, trying to hug her one last time because he knew that, when he awoke, he would never be able to again. He would never see her, or laugh with her, or sit up all night staring at the stars just talking with her again. He had failed her too, just as he had failed his mother and everyone else._

_He had been standing in a cold city of shattered crystal with a sky filled with smoke and ash. Now, he was standing in a different city, a city that was just as cold, if not colder. Instead of crystal, there was steel._

_Sand and steel. Dunes and skyscrapers. Failure, found in both._

_His failure._

_Failure._

_He felt the blaster bolt surge through his skin as surely as if it were actually him who was being shot. His mind blanketed hers, protecting her from this one last cruelty. He showed to her all the good the universe had to offer. He showed her Naboo, showed her Padmé, and showed her what love felt like. He showed her Shmi, gave to her a mother’s embrace, showed to her what being loved felt like. She responded that she already knew that one, and showed him himself._

_He showed her the sunset and the sunrise, the moons and the stars. He showed her places of beauty and purity unlike the horrid, unjust world she knew. He showed her what it was like just outside the realm of mortal, for he alone knew what that meant. He showed her everything, and then she was gone._

_Not all stories had happy endings. This was one of them._

Anakin awoke silently, not crying out or jolting awake violently like he was used to doing after a nightmare. Quiet tears fell from his half-shut eyes and his mind was silent. 

They had refused her a funeral. Her body was cremated and her ashes scattered in an undisclosed location. He would never be able to show the future generations her grave and say “look what they did to her.” She would fade from existence, forever lost when he died, her memory dying with him. 

He will never be able to place flowers over her grave, or sleep next to it to guard her in death. The stars will never be able to shine on her spirit, as it will be lost to them without a grave or body to guide them. The rain will not fall for her, nor will she be able to navigate the afterlife. She was gone, in body and in spirit, for the rest of time. They killed her twice, and he never even got to see her. 

The last time he had seen her had been when he comforted her in that prison. Then, nothing. His last memory of being up her side was him holding her as they both cried, terrified out of their minds, with him being unable to say anything because they both knew what was going to happen.

They had both been put through so much needless suffering. He felt sick all the time, and a dull throbbing headache permeated his skull whenever he used the Force. The place where Ahsoka’s bond had been ached constantly, but so did his heart and soul. 

He should get up, he knew. There were things to do. But he could find no motivation to do anything anymore. 

He lay there in bed for hours, doing nothing. What was the point of doing anything when there was no point? Everything he’d done resulted in someone he loved getting hurt. Who was next? Rex? Padmé? Obi-Wan? 

Why should he go and fight for the Order? Were they going to kill him next? The moment he outlived his usefulness, were they going to discard him?

It was like being a slave all over again, except now he didn’t know what to expect. How did he not see this coming? How could he have been so blind, so foolish to think that this time it would be different? A Master by any other name was just as cruel.

He had a destiny to fulfill, he knew. He was the one who shook the stars and rained down fire and death onto the slavers. He was the one who would bring the revolution, the uprising.

But right now, he was too tired to even get out of bed.

Force, he was so tired all the time. It was a constant, bone-deep weariness. What was he to do, when waking up tomorrow seemed just as impossible as winning a war? What could he do, but roll over and go back to sleep?

* * *

_Leaves fell the night when everything was silent_

_No one dared to make a noise, they just stood their quiet_

_The little soldier boy found his way back home_

_His mother wrapped her arms around his corpse_

* * *

Two weeks ago, the Jedi Order murdered two children, ages 15 and 20. Many would say that they were old enough, that they should not be counted as such. But what determines a child is not the number but the mindset, and the opportunity to live. One never got that chance, and the other’s chance was taken away too soon. 

So, yes, the Jedi murdered two children, and they did it with a single blaster bolt. These children did not die during the war they were sent out to fight. They did not die in a heroic battle to save their people, though they had done so many times. They died at the hands of the ones they had saved, the ones they looked up to. They did not die to the Sith or to the Separatists, but to the Jedi and to the Republic. 

The one with the stolen chance fell in flesh and spilled her blood on the pavement, while the one who never had a chance fell in spirit and flooded the stars with his tears. They had only meant to kill the one with the stolen chance, but the one without died all the same. 

Death is not just physical, after all, and to kill one is to kill the other. There can be no darkness without light, and she was his light, and so he died with her.

Two weeks ago, they were executed. Tonight, new evidence came to light. These children were innocent. In the Republic and the Jedi’s haste, two young souls were slaughtered for a crime they did not commit.

Anakin knew this as the truth, had always known, and now so did everyone else. He stood silently as the Council offered him their ‘sincerest apologies’. He did not need to say anything, his mere presence was an accusation. Face blank and eyes empty, he stared at them. He did not offer them the relief of acknowledgment, nor was there any forgiveness in his heart. He was as cold as the corpse of his Padawan. There was no one to blame for that but themselves.

Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and walked out. On the outside, he appeared to be calm, or at the least, stony. But on the inside, he was a hurricane. Rage, betrayal, guilt, grief, sorrow, pain, and hatred clawed at his gut until he was nothing but what he felt. 

He entered his room and closed the door behind him. In a daze, he grabbed a stylus and some flimsy and collapsed into the chair next to his desk. His mind was empty as he wrote, not knowing what it was he was writing. All he could think about was Ahsoka, and how she was dead. Dead and gone and he was so angry at everyone. He was pissed at Obi-Wan for doing nothing, he was infuriated with Fox and the rest of the Coruscant guard, he was mad beyond words at the Council, he was upset at Barriss for framing his Padawan, and he hated Tarkin for killing his Padawan. But, most of all, he was angry at himself. How could he let this happen? 

He stopped writing as hot tears dripped from his face onto the flimsy. Rubbing his eyes petulantly, he blinked as he saw what he had written. 

It was a list. A list, with the names of the Council members, Obi-Wan, Fox, Tarkin, Palpatine, Barriss, and everyone else responsible for Ahsoka’s death. And at the very bottom of his list was his own name, underlined twice. 

He stared at it, uncomprehending, for a few seconds. Then, he blinked, a dark idea dawning on him. He grinned, working out the details in his mind. 

Memorizing the list, he burned the flimsy so that there was no evidence left behind. If he was to do this, and he would do this, then he would need to be careful beyond belief. 

That was okay. He would do whatever it took to avenge  _ her _ .

* * *

_ The leaves from the vine, falling so slow _

_ Like fragile, tiny shells drifting in the foam _

_ The little soldier boy was taken from his home _

_ Brave soldier boy, come marching home _


End file.
